


The things Time just passes by...

by TheUsagi1995



Series: Stories for Season/Series 12 of SPN [13]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam, Brotherly Love, Dean Winchester and Sam Winchester in Love, Desk Sex, Dirty Talk, Established Dean Winchester/Sam Winchester, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Past Abuse, Ketch hears Sam and Dean having sex, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Episode: s12e18 The Memory Remains, Rimming, Season/Series 12, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Sex Talk, Smut, Top Dean, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-28 03:05:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10822419
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheUsagi1995/pseuds/TheUsagi1995
Summary: Based on this request:“After a hard kick in the feels by last week's episode, I have a very naughty idea. Would you consider writing an alternate ending for that episode? One where after Sam and Dean carve their initials, they have wicked hot sex on the table and Ketch overhears them? And finds himself turned on, even touching himself??”Post episode: s12e18: The memory remains.Sam and Dean mark the bunker as their own, needing to leave behind a mark which will indicate to those who will come after them, that they existed in this world, that they fought and died for it. But, this is not enough, because it will fade over time. So, Sam and Dean do what they have always done, they mark one another.They mark one another with rough kisses, with touches that will bruise the flesh, with hot, white cum. Right there, on that desk, where their initials are carved.Too bad there is a bug under that very same desk... Too bad that Ketch is listening...Too bad he can't bring himself to shut the speakers down...For Jess!!





	The things Time just passes by...

**Author's Note:**

> Hey there, you all!!!! Yes, I'm back, if anyone cares that is. I'm sorry I'm late, but I needed a break and I have to focus on my studies... :)
> 
> And, yes, if anyone is interested, I WILL UPDATE MY STORY “The power of Words: The words of the First Deal” I have not given up on it!!!! 
> 
> So, this story, is for my reader “Jess”, who asked me to write this:  
> “After a hard kick in the feels by last week's episode, I have a very naughty idea. Would you consider writing an alternate ending for that episode? One where after Sam and Dean carve their initials, they have wicked hot sex on the table and Ketch overhears them? And finds himself turned on, even touching himself??” 
> 
> You can find the propose posted as a comment on my other story “Remembrance”. It was posted right after 12x18 aired. I have to thank her for her idea and for asking me to write this, instead of asking someone else! It really means a lot, and I'm sorry it took so long!!
> 
> Also, I really, really have to thank my great, great, beta reader “Geekyfangirl131”, for checking the story out. She is great and I can't thank her enough for all her help! She really helped out and I am so honored that she is spending her time on my stories!! 
> 
> Plus, I have to thank Fenix21 as well, whom never refuses to help and guide me, when I need some tips. She is so great and I'm so grateful for her help!
> 
> Oh, and one more thing: I do not own Supernatural, or any of its characters!
> 
>  
> 
> Now, I've said enough, haven't I?? So,  
> Off we go!!!

The low sound of the Swiss knife carving the surface of the wooden desk pinched Ketch's ears, making him bring his eyebrows together. Just what the Hell were those brothers up to? Ketch sat on his chair, rolling it closer to the desk, his piercing eyes fixed on the screen before him. “You did the same gesture.” Dean's voice echoed, low and husky through the fibers of the bug, which was under the desk. “Uh? What gesture?” Was all Sam answered, his tone light, but weary nonetheless. Ketch leaned back on his chair and opened the drawer to his right, searching for a small flask of Whiskey, which he knew was stored there, without taking his eyes of the screen. 

 

“You blew away the remaining fragments of wood, instead of pushing them aside with the back of your hand. You had done the very same thing back then, when we carved our initials on the car.” Dean explained and Ketch found himself halting at the sound of those words. So, it would seem that those poor souls, assumed the Men of Letters' bunker, a place in which some of the most worthy men of all time had lived and studied, was theirs to claim and mark. Blowing out a frustrated sigh, Ketch got up from the chair, and took a few steps to the side, turning off most of the lights in the base -he was alone in it anyway- while, with his other hand, he grabbed a fine glass from a small shelf. Such a good Whiskey which he was about to taste, needed an equally well shaped host. 

 

Reclaiming his seat, the man poured some of the brown liquor, which was kept in the flask, right into the glass and slowly rolled it between his fingers. A small chuckle, made him turn his attention back to the speakers and to the brothers. “Yeah, I remember I did that.” Ketch heard Sam saying, his voice nostalgic, sad even. Silence then fell in the room, but was short lived, as the sound of a chair being moved on the floor was heard, followed by light, almost untraceable footsteps. “You still do a lot of things the exact way you always have, you know.” Dean's voice echoed once again through the speakers, only this time it sounded closer to the bug and Ketch assumed it was Dean, who had just moved the chair around. He also didn't fail to notice that the color in Dean's voice had somewhat changed. His voice had a different tone, a softer, yet somehow sinful tone. 

 

Shuffling was then heard as one of the men moved even closer to where the bug was, under the table, but Ketch couldn't tell which one was it, not until he heard the muffled, low whisper of Dean's name coming out of Sam's lips. Black eyes narrowed, becoming two sharp slits on Ketch's face. “For example, you still get lost inside your head every time you think I'm too tired to notice it.” Dean pointed out, his voice even lower, huskier. “But you always do notice, don't you?” Sam replied, breath hitching for just a fragment of a second, for some reason Ketch could not name. Yet. “Yeah Sammy, I always do.” Dean muttered then, and more shambling was heard, making Ketch turn up the volume. “And I've also become better at understanding what it is, that which you're troubling your nerdy brain with.” Dean spoke again, voice now muffled by something, something which made Sam inhale sharply all the while whispering his brother's name. 

 

“Hey, keep your eyes on me, come on Sammy.” Dean said, bitterness filling his words. “Do you want me to back off for tonight?” Ketch heard Dean questioning, voice stifled for yet another time, only now, it seemed as though Dean's lips were brushing over something. “No, no, that's not it, after all, you've barely done anything, other than muzzle in the crook of my neck, like some kind of-” “Hey, I'm not your freaking cat!” Dean then cut off, and Ketch felt his stomach flipping as slowly but surely, his mind began to process what his ears had just heard. A low, bitter sigh was then produced from the depths of Sam's throat, as the younger man spoke again, his voice trembling slightly. “It's just that...” But Sam's voice fainted and Ketch had to wait a few moments for any words to be uttered. When they finally were, it was in such a low voice that if Dean had breathed out while Sam was talking, Ketch would have missed it all.

 

 

“The chamber, it brought back some things and when I realized you were trapped in a freaking freezer along with a God-” Sam paused, gulping for breath all of a sudden, and Ketch flinched at the sound of the younger Winchester swallowing thickly. His eyes flew open the very next second, however, as the sound of lips brushing over skin surrounded the cold office. The kiss-it had to be a kiss, for Sam's next words were muffled and never really made it out of his mouth- was slow, all wet and marshy. God, this couldn't be, this was above and beyond anything Ketch had ever expected to find. His gut twitched and he hurried to empty all the Whiskey in one long gulp, up to the last drop the crystal glass contained. He kept the brim of the glass close to his bottom lip for a little while, watching it blurring more and more as the hunter was trying, and apparently failing, to control his erratic breathing. The man eventually lowered the glass and swallowed, focusing on the speakers for yet another time.

 

 

“I'm right here, Sammy.” Was all Dean mumbled, voice now tight with need, but in all its urgency, Ketch could trace hesitation in it as well. Refilling his glass in a swift move, the man crossed his legs under the desk, shocked at the realization that his member, which was slowly but surely responding to the soft moans and whispers coming from those perverted hunters, made sitting in that position harder than it should have ever been. Waving his head in refusal, Ketch ignored the slight throb of his cock and turned his full attention to the computer once again. “Hey, Sammy, hey, baby boy, I need you to look at me. Come on now, I'm right here Sam, right here, holding your face in my hands.” At the sound of those words, words which were spoken with passion and with love, Ketch pressed his hand in between his frowned brows. God, how obscured and twisted were those men?

 

 

“Yeah, you're here, but I'm not, I haven't been for a while...” The younger man breathed, and Ketch could swear the sound of a hand running through long hair followed those words. “Sam-” “No, you know I'm right Dean. It's just... First, it was Lucifer in my room, then it was the British bitch and her sex spell, then we were thrown into those cells... I have drawn myself away from you.” Sam's voice cracked and faded, self-loathing, guilt and shame oozing out like blood from a deep, old wound which would never heal properly, because it was constantly reopened. But Ketch didn't pay much attention to the tone, for his mind had stopped at the point where Sam mentioned Toni Bevil.

 

 

“So, I... I haven't been here, not really, not as you would want me to, hence the bartender yesterday night.” Sam snapped, his voice edgy. “You're jealous of her? Sam, you know that I-” “Yes, I am so freaking jealous of her Dean, because she can lay down and have sex with you, whilst I... I can't get Toni out of my head, just like I couldn't get Lucifer out, and when we entered the freaking chamber, all I could think about, were those endless hours with that bitch, and how empty I had felt, because I knew you wouldn't come for me-” No more words came out of Sam's moist lips, however, as bile rose up to his throat, something which was made clear to Ketch by the sound of ragged quickening inhales which echoed even sharper through the speakers of his computer. “Hey, easy, easy, easy there, Sammy...” Dean coaxed, and the sound of rushing footsteps thumping on the floor made Ketch understand Dean had moved around the desk, probably to grab something, and was back by his brother's side within seconds.

 

“Are you okay?” Dean questioned after a while, his tone caring and serious, the tightness and need ebbing away. “Yes.” Sam spat out, swallowing hard. “Dean, I... I need...” But Ketch didn't get to hear the rest of the sentence, as the wet, sloppy sound of lips meeting, was once again heard, cutting Sam's phrase off, for Dean knew what his brother wanted, he didn't need it spelled out for him. “I know Sammy, I know what you want, but if you want us to take it slow, or if you need more time-” At the slightest indication of doubt and hesitation, Ketch raised an eyebrow, but disgust flooded within him anew the next second, as Dean spoke again. “No, hey, don't give me that sad face of yours, you know what I mean.” “I know Dean...” Sam hissed, but the tremendous amount of gratitude was audible in his voice. 

 

 

“I know, and I'm thankful for everything you have been doing, but... I'm tired of been surrendered to memories of Toni, or... Or of Lucifer. And I need you to-” Here, Sam's voice cracked again, but Ketch didn't have much time to wrap his mind around what he had just heard, for Dean stepped in. “Say it Sam, tell me what you want of me baby. I need you to be sure that you want this.” This time however, Ketch did have time to process the fact that Dean had called his brother by the nickname 'baby'. God, a hunter like Dean Winchester, an undoubtedly strong man, drooling and acting so pathetically... He could never imagine Dean Winchester being so weak. “I want you to fuck me-” “Nop, can't do.” Dean cut Sam off, voice rather sharp and truthful. “Let's try again, shall we? Come on Sammy, tell me what you need.” Dean mumbled, his words spoken calmly, yet with long pauses in between, which made Ketch could understand that each word was interrupted by a brush of those well shaped lips on Sam's skin.

 

“Dean, come on, don't act as if we have never fucked before-” “No, we have never fucked and for all I know, we never will. Now, third chance is last chance, Sammy.” The words were spoken in a low voice and in the background, Ketch could make out the sound of hands running along the length of a pair of jeans. A breathy sigh came out of the younger man then and Ketch felt his member coming more and more alive in his pants. He could only guess that Dean's hand had stopped right over Sam's crotch, a hypothesis which was confirmed by Dean's low, sexy whispers. “Your not-so-little friend down here, has missed me...” “I- I want you to-Dean... God, more...” A low, sinful chuckle was all Dean responded to Sam's failed attempt on forming a sentence and it send a shiver down Ketch's spine. 

 

 

“I want you... To make love to me, to have sex with me, Dean, just, please...” Sam breathed, hot and ragged, but he sounded dedicated and sure, even through the speakers. “Good, that's good Sammy... I'm going to give you what you want baby boy, what you've always wanted.” Ketch's breath hitched ever so slightly, as his ears picked up the low, huskier tone Dean had once again used, to address his brother. His finger ghosted over the 'on-off' button, ready to shut the speakers down, for he was repulsed by the immorality of it all, by the utter disfigurement of all rules-- “Some things never change, even after all these years...” Dean's whispered words, tore Ketch's thoughts apart, bringing him back to the present. His eyes flicked from the button to the screen and back, undoubtedly trying to decide what course of action to take.

 

 

“Just like the fact that you blew away the remaining fragments of wood. Just like that...” Dean breathed in Sam's neck, the words muffled by the soft flesh, which Ketch imagined hot under Dean's lips- God, what was he thinking... The clumping of footsteps on the cold concrete was then heard, followed by another set of thumping footsteps mere seconds later. Ketch bet Sam had moved first and that his brother had followed, with not so steady steps which echoed through the speakers. “You want to know what else hasn't changed over the course of the years little brother?” The older man teased lightly and Ketch found himself lying further back in his armchair, taking a long ship of Whiskey. “You're still shuddering whenever I run my teeth on the inside of your neck...” Ketch's black eyes blinked as Sam breathed out a sigh, swallowing the lump in his throat. 

 

 

A sharp inhale followed Sam's sigh, and the characteristic nip of lips closing in around the skin turned Ketch's blood into an ocean of hellish fire. He took yet another sip of his whiskey, hoping to fight fire with fire, and to subdue his body's sudden restlessness in a sea of good, old Scotch. It would do the trick. It had to. “Or, when I let my fingers roam on the back of your neck, and all the way down...” Dean continued, and the image of strong, gun callused fingers, caressing the back of a fine neck and going down, down that muscled back, which would twitch at the feather-like touches blocked the view of the computer, which was what Ketch had his eyes on. Tilting his head to the side, the British let the brim of his glass linger in between his lips, all the while dragging his nails along the length of the upper part of his right leg, halting when he reached his hip. No, he wouldn't be dragged down that path, he wouldn't let those sinful little moans become all he could hear, nor would he let those hellish, perverted fantasies blind his vision...

 

 

“God, that pumping Adam apple of yours...” Dean's voice was once again heard as he kept kissing and licking Sam's fine neck, the humming noises coming out of his throat indicating that he, very much relished the taste of that sinful flesh. Shuffling and gulping followed that statement and Ketch found that there was a part of him, which opposed to the possibility of the brothers moving this to another room. “You sure you want us to stay here?” Dean questioned breathing heavily, through his nose. “Yeah, yes Dean, now if you don't mind, maybe we could actually do something-” “Fine, we'll stay here then, but I'm not going to carry you to bed later!” It was a statement filled with amusement which made both Sam and Dean laugh, but Ketch couldn't decide whether or not it was true. There was a part of him which was sure, Dean had carried Sam in his arms in the past, and that, if needed, he would find a way to do it again. 

 

“Right, right, right...” Sam mumbled, voice now tight, words spoken without a pause for breath, making Ketch flutter his eyes closed to see a taut jaw behind his long lashes. The sound of fabric being forcibly removed and of clothes rustling as the two bodies crushed on one another, made him reopen his hazed eyes, eyes with pupils now dilated and darkened. “Back and on the desk you go, Sammy...” Dean cooed and the wiggling of a body lying on a wooden surface echoed. The unzipping of a zipper and the unbuckling of a belt soon followed and Ketch felt the glass of whiskey slipping through his fingers, which were now drenched with sweat. “Dude, you should get your clothes off too...” Sam huffed in what could easily be identified as clear annoyance, but Ketch knew it was impatience and lust. So, those were Sam's jeans which had gone thumbing down on the floor.

 

“God, so wet for me, aren't you Sammy? For me, only for me...” Dean chuckled lowly, his words mixed with the light, but nonetheless existing, splash as Dean's hand concealed Sam's cock, which Ketch could imagine hard, pumping, leaking pre-cum, God, he could close his eyes and feel the sticky white liquor in between his own fingers. All of a sudden, his black eyes flew open, filled with horror and disgust, flicking between the speakers and his right hand, which had moved as if it had a mind of its own. Ketch had to blink a couple of times, in order to understand that the fly of his own trousers had been undone, and that there was indeed pre-cum in between the fingers of his own hand. His own pre-cum. 

 

“Dean, ahh, Dean, stop teasing, just get in me already-” “Shh, hey, no, slow down there, okay?” Dean's voice echoed, husky and tight, but leaving no room for an argument. With the next splash, Ketch heard Sam hitting his head on the table as he bucked his hips up. The man let go of his own pulsing member and zipped up his trousers, emptying the second glass of whiskey in one, long gulp. He tightened his hold around the glass as Sam's low whine surrounded him, followed by Dean's muffled chuckle. “We don't have enough lube Sammy, so I'm going to have to do this the old way...” “Dean, you don't have to open me up-” “Shh, I make the calls here, little brother.” Was all the green eyed man declared, before returning to his task, a task which made Sam drag his nails along Dean's scull and Ketch poor more whiskey in his glass. 

 

 

The unmistakable sound of a tongue meeting flesh, then echoed, in Ketch's cold office, accompanied by the nipping of lips on burning skin, mixed with Sam's uneven breaths. Ketch grabbed his hip, digging his nails into the flesh to the point where bruises could be formed, even though the man was wearing his trousers. His eyes fluttered closed instinctively, and behind his long lashes, existed Sam Winchester, who was lying naked on that wooden desk, his bare back dripping sweat, its skin rubbing on those markings they had carved a few minutes ago... Ketch took in a sharp breath and shut his eyes even tighter, as his mind kept tormenting him, showing him Sam's flushed face, his long hair lying all over it, with lips ajar-- or where they closed? And with those long legs furled upwards, knees touching his cheeks in order for Dean to be able to bury his tongue in that tight heat...

 

 

“Dean, Dean, I...” “Relax and let me in...” Dean instructed, his voice tight, yet somehow soft, as if he was talking to a much younger, inexperienced man. At that thought, Ketch's eyes narrowed, but Sam's next muttered words, made him bite his lip as he felt his own dick pulsing in between his legs. “That hasn't changed either, has it? Ever since I was seventeen, you would lick me open, and you would say-- God, Dean!” Sam suddenly spat, words spoken loudly, accompanied by a series of moans and whines, as Sam felt Dean's rubber-like tongue slipping in and out of his entrance again and again. Ketch gulped down more of his whiskey, feeling sweat pouring out of him in waves, running down his face. No doubt the Winchesters would be dripping sweat as well...

 

 

“Spread your legs up for me, that's it Sammy, that's it, baby...” Dean praised with a rough voice, and his words were mixed with a sharp moan. Ketch wasn't sure it didn't come from him, for his right hand had once again traveled down his trousers and had found his leaking member. “Dean, shit, shit...” Sam swore, his voice low, hoarse. The thump of a body hitting the wooden surface was heard once again, making Ketch grab his cock, giving a strong pull. “Sammy, so eager for my cock, are you? Look at you, withering, shaking on that desk, taking two of my fingers... I bet I can make you cum with just my fingers...” “Dean, stop teasing and just-” But Dean ignored his brother and kept talking, breath coming out short, uneven. “You still flush red when I say such things, just like the first time...” “Dean!!” Sam yelled then, and Ketch's eyes widened. “Yahtzee...” Dean mumbled, low and sinful, making Sam inhale deeply while pleading him for more and for him to stop at the same time.

 

 

“Dean, Dean, there, shit, there... De-” But Sam's moans and pleas were interrupted by Ketch's low growl, as he gave tug after tug to his own member, all while letting his eyes flutter closed, only to imagine Sam Winchester lying on that desk, all naked and vulnerable, with Dean's gun callused fingers brushing over his prostate repeatedly, mercilessly. “Dean, I'm fucking ready, that's enough-” “Not even close to enough, and you know it-” “Dean... Please, I need... I need you, Dean, I need you...” Sam uttered, his body hitting the desk over and over, small thumps, which Ketch could guess were caused by him shaking and shuddering as Dean opened him up. The sounds then stopped, probably because Dean had moved his free hand, placing it on the center of Sam's broad chest, to keep him still. 

 

 

Only sharp breaths echoed in the room for a while, and Ketch hypothesized that looks were enough for those two to come to an understanding. “Okay, alright.” Dean promised and the sound of fingers pulling out of a wet entrance was heard. The shuffling of clothes being removed, followed and then the one of lube been poured out of a small tube. That last splash, made the British hunter take yet another sip of his whiskey, all the while closing his eyes half the way. As Dean spoke again, his voice now barely above a whisper, Ketch gritted his teeth. “I'm right here, Sammy...” The slide of Dean's member was covered by Sam's sharp inhales, which were all Ketch could hear for a few seconds. Sam's sharp inhales... Or where they his own?

 

 

Ketch didn't know the answer to that, and his pride wouldn't let him admit that the moans which were now filling the empty office were coming from him and not Sam. Blinking repeatedly, Ketch refilled his glass and tried to control his breathing. And many miles away, Sam was trying to do the same thing. “You good, Sammy?” Dean whispered through gritted teeth, making Ketch turn up the volume even more, because not only was Dean's voice lower, but not as close to the bug as before. Ragged, shallow breaths, were all Dean got as an answer to his question, but those puffing sounds were soon interrupted by the cracking of wood as more weight was added on it. Ketch had no doubt that the cracking was caused by Dean, who had probably rested his forearms on each side of Sam's face and thus on the wooden desk, so as to be closer to the younger man. 

 

A choked sob emerged from the depths of someone's throat, then, making Ketch raise an eyebrow and Dean exclaim in surprise. “Sam? Sammy, what-” No more words were heard however, as the smacking sound of lips closing in around flesh, blocking the intake of air echoed, followed by the deep moans, which were unmistakably Dean's. Ketch bit his lip yet again, as he imagined Sam devouring Dean's well-shaped lips, pushing his tongue inside the other man's mouth, claiming him, marking him... His fantasies picked, as the slow splash of flesh meeting flesh surrounded the cold office and hot, shallow breaths and muffled whispers overran every corner of Ketch's body. Both men were quieter now, but Sam was still repeating his brother's name with each thrust the older man would give. 

 

Ketch tightened his grip on the glass even more, his knuckles turning white from the effort. Meanwhile, he could feel his blood boiling, running hot in his veins, burning him as though it was fire. He could hear his heart pounding in his ears at the same time as Sam's wordless moans and groans of pleasure. Those sinful sounds, the splashing of wet flesh, the sighs, the thumping of a body hitting the wooden desk, were making Ketch sick, yet his own body was responding as though it had a mind of his own, and the man could feel his cock screaming for some kind of release. Soon, the splashing sounds increased, as Dean picked up his pace, and Ketch could swear Sam had covered his mouth with his hand, for his moans of Dean's name could not be heard as clearly as before. 

 

“I want to hear you Sammy...” Dean declared, confirming Ketch's assumption. “But-” “We're alone in here, no one will hear us baby boy.” Black eyes narrowed then, realizing the irony of it all. He could hear everything. Ketch, could hear them, he had them where he wanted them, he could destroy them once and for all... “Well, there is something which has changed... We don't have to hide and be quiet...” Sam managed to utter, in between ragged breaths. Oh, if he only knew how wrong he was at that moment... Ketch let his lips form a small smile at that thought. 

 

 

“I miss the thrill.” Dean replied, chuckling, in an equally tight voice. Ketch inhaled sharply then, his smile fading away, as he realized that, this, what those brothers were doing, was, and had always been, the ultimate game of hunter and hunted, of predator and prey. His heart fluttered at the intensity of it all, and almost exploded in his chest as he heard Sam calling out to Dean in a low, but almost desperate voice. At the sound of Sam's words, Ketch moved his right hand, placing it over his cock yet again, giving tug after tug to his already leaking member...

 

“Dean, I'm close, Dean...” Ketch threw his head back as he heard Dean pulling almost all the way out before splashing forcibly back in, making Sam's body jerk and jolt hard on the wooden desk. “Dean, I...” “Come for me. Do it, fall apart underneath me, come on, Sammy...” Dean said, and it wasn't that far from an actual command. Ketch heard Sam's body hitting the desk again as Dean slid out and then back in, for yet another time. And it was in that moment, in the moment where Sam growled Dean's name all the while shooting long ropes of white cum all over the older man, that Ketch understood Dean wasn't weak, to the contrary, he was strong, mighty and powerful, a man who could bring Sam Winchester to his knees and make him beg like there was no tomorrow. Bring him to his knees... Or raise him up to the stars...

 

“God, Sammy, shit...” Shuttered words escaped Dean's lips, as the sound of flesh meeting flesh was now all Ketch could hear, for Dean's thrusts were now erratic, and hard. And as Dean drew in a sharp breath, muttering Sam's name in the crook of the younger man's neck all the while filling him up with white cum, the sound of glass breaking, mixed with a hiss of pain made Ketch tear his eyes from the speakers and fix it on his left hand... Shards of glass tore his palm apart, the blood oozing out, running hot like fire, dripping on the floor. Ketch blinked and it took him a while to realize he had broken the glass of whiskey he was holding. He needed to clean the wound, but as his gaze traveled to his other hand, he felt another kind of hot liquor in between his fingers. Only this, was white...

 

No words echoed through the speakers for a long while, only breaths and the sound of fingers running through someone's hair. “You always do that. Play with my hair.” Sam muttered, ever so slowly, as if he was afraid to speak up. A low hum was all Dean replied to his brother and silence once again surrounded them, giving Ketch the chance to get up and clean himself up. Both from the blood as well as from the cum... Returning to his seat, the man could feel his heart slowing down by the second. “I don't care.” He heard Sam saying, an admission which seemed to make no sense. Likely for Ketch, Dean needed his brother to further elaborate his point. “What? You don't care about what?” “That no one will remember us. Because for all I know...” Here, Sam's voice trailed off.

 

“Sammy?” Ketch heard Dean questioning, voice equally low. “For all I know... You will remember me. Because, even when everything else had faded away from your memory, you still remembered me. So,that's enough for me.” Sam uttered, leaving Ketch stunned. “Well, here is one more thing which has not changed. You always say chick-flick nonsense after sex. Such a girl, Samantha.” Ketch's lips turned up into a small smile. Dean Winchester didn't like that kind of stupid, sweet talk. But Ketch was wrong, for he couldn't see the amount of love in Dean's emerald orbs as Sam was uttering those words. One glance was enough to make Sam understand Dean was feeling the same way. A low huff was heard, followed by Dean's words. “Where do you think you're going, Sammy?” “To bed, maybe?” Sam answered, voice soft, but weary. 

 

A low chuckle emerged from Dean's throat then and Ketch was surrounded by the sounds of wood cracking and of footsteps thumping on the concrete floor.“Dean, what the hell-” Shuffling was what followed, making Ketch draw his eyebrows together. “Dean, you can't do this-” “Watch me.” Ketch heard Dean declaring, voice determent. “Dean, your back-” “Shut up and hold on to me, freaking octopus.” Dean almost commanded and Ketch was left staring at his speakers, as not-so steady footsteps, were moving further away from the bug. Only problem was, Ketch was sure, it was just one man walking down the hall... Then, everything fell silent and Ketch was left alone in his cold office, thinking about what he had just heard... Thinking that the orgasm he just had, was one of the best he had in his life...

**Author's Note:**

> Now, here it ends!!! I really hope that you enjoyed it!! Note that it was kind of hard to write, cause I am not a native speaker and the text had a lot of 'sounds' which needed to be described. So, I'm sorry if there are any mistakes left in there. If there are, then they are my own!!  
> So, kudos and comments make me want to write more! Please, tell me what you think of the story, if you can! Feedback keeps me going, it really does...  
> And, I repeat, if anyone is interested in my story“The power of Words: The words of the First Deal” I WILL UPDATE IT!! I have not given up on it!!!!  
> So, until next time,  
> Love you all,  
> Usagi!!


End file.
